


Charcoal Lines

by stroke_of_genius



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/F, Original Fantasy World, References to Prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2018-12-18 22:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11883792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stroke_of_genius/pseuds/stroke_of_genius
Summary: Set in a fantasy world inspired by 18th century France, Hazel is a starving artist struggling to gain popularity in a time where classical oil paintings are viewed as a thing of the past. Piper is a popular courtesan who inherited her mother’s attractiveness as well as her crippling debts to the Bordel, a courtesan house run by a cruel woman set up to keep young ladies within its services until death. An unlikely friendship forms between the two women, however amongst class warfare and magic that could be detrimental to their careers and lives, it will be impossible for them to emerge unscathed.





	1. Rough Sketch

Sometimes, Hazel wished that she had become a pseudo fortune teller like her mom. At the very least, it would’ve been an infinitely steadier job than her current profession of classical painter. After all, most people wanted to hear pretty lies more than pay to have their portrait taken. But painting had kept her alive so far.

She couldn’t say the same for her mother.

So Hazel grinned and bore the struggles of being a starving artist. While attendants to the party she was working at wore silk gloves or jewels on their hands, hers were coated with charcoal and oil paints, and colorful dried stains decorated her blouse like the velvet and ribbons of noble attire.

She knew she looked like a mess, but also that if she left her artisan station to go clean up in the nearest washroom, she may never be invited to another party of this standing.

Hazel tried her best to brush off what she could, and continue working. Still, she couldn't help but occasionally glance around at the grandeur of the ballroom.

In the middle of the large room, sunken into the ground, was a flat, circular floor for dancing. Raised around the perimeter of the dance floor, almost like the next tier of an inverted wedding cake, was a ringed platform of musicians, who were providing the music for dancers below. Another step up were the actors and actresses, who recited love poetry, performed comedy routines, and did whatever else they thought would best catch the attention of the nobles attending the party. Finally, on the third ring up from the dance floor, where Hazel now stood, were the visual artists.

Her eyes wandered from pottery maker to abstractionist to watercolor painter, trying to see who had the largest crowd around their piece.

Hazel and the other classical painter at her station, a tall red-haired girl named of Rachel, didn't have a single courtier at their site. She probably should have expected it, with many modern nobles viewing classical oil painting as a thing of the past and moving on to more modern arts, but it was still disheartening to have no one interested in her work when it was the first time she had ever been invited to a high-society party.

The general lack of interest in her work by party-goers is what made Hazel become so alert when an older, well-dressed gentleman stopped at her station, a gorgeous woman on his arm.

Hazel recognized him as the nobleman who had invited her to the party, after buying one of her pieces from a gallery. She wasn't allowed to address him without having been spoken to first, but currently he was the reason she still had a home, so she smiled at him and bowed her head in respect, even if the lovely girl draped across him piqued her interest more than the elder man. Hazel could have sworn that Monsieur Jaques' wife was not so young. Or pretty.

Jaques continued to peruse the art she had on display for a while, before leaning over to the woman who had accompanied him and whispering something into her ear. She smiled and batted her lashes, waving him off as he left to attend to another matter.

Hazel didn't look up from her canvas until he was well out of sight, pretending to be focused on the small oil painting of the ballroom she was working on.

When she was confident that Jaques was well out of earshot, she put down her brush and glanced up, relieved to still see the young woman standing there, admiring the art. Hazel cleared her throat, drawing the courtier’s attention.

They looked at each other for a moment, before the noblewoman seemed to realize what Hazel was waiting on.

“You may speak,” she said, a hint of an embarrassed blush creeping up her neck.

Hazel tried to give her best reassuring smile and hide her peek at the lady’s ring finger. No ring. “Mademoiselle, may I ask your name?”

“It’s Piper McLean. And who are you, young artist?”

Young? Piper looked barely older than herself. Still, Hazel kept her smile plastered on her face. She needed all the commissioners and buyers she could get, after all. And she had a specific request for this McLean woman. “I am Hazel Levesque, a local artist. Your…” she glanced at the direction Jaques had gone, “...partner bought a piece from me recently.”

Piper’s mouth twitched. “Oh really?” Shoot. This woman was going to walk away any moment; Hazel had to ask her sooner rather than later.

“Mademoiselle McLean, have you ever had a personal portrait done?”

Piper blinked, obviously surprised by the question. “I… cannot say I have,” she said, smoothing out the lengths of her skirt.

Hazel was actually a bit shocked; she had expected her to have had at least one commission done before. She found that now she really did want to make a painting for Piper. “ _Impossible_! A lady with your visage? Why, any painter who didn’t snatch up the chance to preserve your beauty on canvas has missed a wonderful opportunity.”

Piper smirked a bit, even as her eyes narrowed. “Well, why don’t you take advantage of this encounter to… what was it you said? Preserve my visage and beauty?”

Hazel bowed slightly, a piece of curly dark hair falling into her face. “It would be an honor, mademoiselle.”

 

* * *

 

 

Hazel wasn’t sure when in their history the nobles of Tephia decided to incorporate local artists into their parties, but she figured she was lucky she lived in a city where she had the opportunity to show off her work to the rich and famous—even if she didn’t get paid to attend.

As she worked on finishing her sketch of Piper—who had left with Monsieur Jaques a while ago—Hazel struck up a conversation with Rachel, the artist across from her.

“Do you know who she is?” Hazel asked. Rachel, who had somehow ended up with smudges of charcoal on her cheek, glanced up from her own painting.

“Who? Piper?” Rached said, wiping her black-stained fingers on her smock.

Hazel didn’t meet her eyes, but nodded. “She obviously isn’t the Monsieur's wife, so who? The wife of a smaller noble, hoping to claw her way to the top? She hadn’t had a portrait done before, so she must just barely have enough status to attend a party like this.” She looked back up at Rachel. “Any ideas?”

Rachel cocked an eyebrow, her mouth curving into a sly grin, like she knew something Hazel didn’t. “What? What is it?” Hazel prodded, using her elbow to lightly nudge Rachel.

Looking around, as if to make sure nobody was within earshot, Rachel leaned in close to her and whispered, “Don’t you know? McLean is a prostitute.”

Hazel gasped, raising a hand to her mouth before realizing better and putting it back down. She didn’t want smudges on her face like Rachel, after all.

Still, she lowered her voice to Rachel’s conspiratorial whisper and said, “Are you certain? She looked and acted so… proper. Like any other noblewoman.”

Rachel seemed to think for a moment, considering her words. “Well, I guess it would be more accurate to call her a courtesan. Prostitute just has more of a dramatic flare to it.”

Hazel focused her attention back on her painting, the conversation between the two artists dying out. If what Rachel said was true, then this painting may be the only one Piper would ever receive. She’d have to work especially hard tonight.

 

* * *

 

 

As the night continued, Hazel lost herself in her work. The ballroom and spectacle of the celebration that had previously distracted her faded completely into the background. She only broke her focus on the painting when she needed to look up at Piper as a reference, though occasionally Hazel would find herself staring for a bit too long, and would have to force herself back into focus.

Intermittently, she would hear a courtier walk by and comment on her pieces. Hazel didn’t really listen to what they had to say, but from the tone of their voices, she was fairly sure it was positive. It wasn’t exactly a good business move to not engage with potential buyers, but it was hard for her to think about anything else except for the lines, oils, and colors.

Towards the end of the night, right when the older party attendees began to say their farewells and retire to the guest chambers, Hazel finished. Usually she’d go to bed after completing a piece, then do the final detail work and small corrections the next morning when she had a clear head, but she needed to give her gift to Piper. She felt that if she didn’t speak to her before the party ended, Hazel would never see her again.

She knew it was risky, but Hazel looked at Rachel, then Monsieur Jaques, then a handful of the other nobles that might have noticed if she were gone, and _breathed_.

It was impossible to describe the feeling of Manipulation. The best comparison Hazel could make was pulling your fingers across a woven tapestry, except the feeling of each thread was distinct and unique, like a different string of reality all coming together to create one grand picture. She pulled at the threads, instinctively knowing what to do to get the results she wanted.

Now, to the people she had selected to Manipulate the minds of, a duplicate of Hazel stood at her easel, painting and pondering. It was a solid illusion, one that was realistic and would be expected, so the only problem would be focusing enough to maintain it on the amount of people she had selected. And making sure they stayed within her sight.

Hazel backed up slowly from the easel and illusion, doing her best to keep everyone she was Manipulating in the corners of her eyes. If it worked correctly, they wouldn’t be able to see her real self move away from her artisan station and towards where she had last seen Piper.

The final test would be whether or not Rachel noticed anything wrong. Hazel walked by her, on edge, expecting for Rachel to ask her where she was going at any moment. She passed, eliciting no response. Breathing out, Hazel allowed herself a moment of relief. Everything was working, then. She continued to move towards the entrance of the ballroom, the small painting of Piper in hand.

Trying her best to look casual for those she wasn’t Manipulating, Hazel kept her chin high and stride confident. Just your average paint-splattered artist walking along the edge of a giant, grandiose gala.

Every second that passed felt like the numbers of a timer counting down to her doom. Every step was a triumph, bringing her closer to the goal before that timer ran out.

Finally, Hazel reached the entrance, where the highest floor opened into an antechamber that lead outside. She looked around, seeing only a tall, dark nobleman with long hair. And then, standing against the wall and appearing to be waiting for Jaques, stood Piper McLean, voluminous white and gold skirts pooling around her.

Piper’s hair, pulled into a fancy updo on top of her head, seemed to be a bit frizzier than when Hazel had last seen her, as if the dancing and heat of the party was able to ruin even a professional courtesan’s facade of perfection. Hazel liked it; it made Piper seem less like an ethereal goddess and more like a human—an exceptionally gorgeous human.

Hazel straightened her blouse and smoothed her skirts, trying to look as presentable as she could as she approached Piper, who struck an imposing figure, even with frizzy hair.

She cleared her throat, drawing the woman's attention away from those who were still dancing.

“Mademoiselle, I’m sorry to bother you, but I believe I owe you a portrait.”

Piper looked at her and blinked, as if trying to remember who Hazel was and what her words meant. “Wait… you don’t mean…”

Hazel lifted the painting she had been carrying so that Piper could see it. When she didn’t speak, Hazel felt herself begin to sweat. She was usually fairly confident in her art, but it didn’t dawn on her until now just how much she wanted Piper to like this gift. Because that’s what it was; not something Hazel created for money or to attract customers, but instead an attempt to make someone’s life a little bit brighter.

It had been too long since she had spontaneously made something for someone else.

Piper finally moved, cupping her hands over her mouth with a shocked expression. And it was then that Hazel saw tears form in her large, heavily lashed eyes. They were like drops of rain on a stained glass window, or water resting on top of unmixed paints.

“You… you made this?” Piper whispered, awe in her voice.

Hazel couldn’t speak, only slowly nod her head.

“In one night?”

Another nod. Gods, why couldn’t she just say something?

Piper lifted the portrait slightly from Hazel’s hands, her eyes still completely entranced by the piece. “Thank you, thank you so much. I’ve… never had anyone make me something like this before. I love it,” she lowered the painting back into Hazel’s hands. “But I can’t take it.”

Hazel just looked at the painting in her hands, wondering if she heard Piper correctly. Suddenly, she found her voice. “No! I mean… no, please, I insist that you take it.” She couldn’t quite meet Piper’s eyes, instead looking at the wall behind her. “It’s a gift. Please.”

Piper shook her head, waving her arms in front of her almost frantically. “I’d be honored to take it, I really, really would! But I mean that, at the moment, I am unable to. I’m afraid I will be…” She glanced over Hazel’s shoulder, “Preoccupied tonight.”

Right. She was a courtesan, and had come with Monsieur Jaques. Piper would not be going home tonight. Hazel felt her face warming up from both her mistake and its implications. But why had Piper glanced over her shoulder?

Oh. Oh, no.

She felt a presence behind her, and Hazel cringed, already knowing who it was and that she had made a terrible mistake. It was a rookie error. When she had turned to speak with Piper, she had stopped looking at those she was Manipulating, severing the tie she had formed between their minds and her illusion.

Very, very slowly, Hazel turned around to face the angry nobleman glaring down at her.

“Mademoiselle Levesque, what, pray tell, are you doing away from your artisan station?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This originally was my fic for the Pjo/Hoo Big Bang, however I didn't finish in time, but my lovely artists have been gracious enough to stick with me regardless. Their art will be linked once it is posted. For now, a new chapter will be posted every Tuesday. I'd greatly appreciate comments & kudos!


	2. Tinted Canvas

Hazel had lost her most promising customer and any chance of being invited to another royal party anytime soon, but at least she had gained the address of a pretty girl from the whole mess.

After being angrily lectured by Jaques for five minutes on the importance of diligent work and following orders, followed by a promise to never buy from her or promote her again, Hazel had packed her things and prepared to leave the party, the painting of Piper McLean still drying and in her possession. But before she had left, the courtesan passed by and slipped something into her hand.

Hazel had been thinking about that hand in hers all night.

To be fair, she couldn’t get Piper in general out of her mind. She finally gave in after insomnia and thoughts of lovely girls kept her awake until the sun began to rise on the horizon. Hazel reached from her small bed to the rickety dresser that had come with her sad apartment and grabbed a sketchbook and a stick of charcoal. Plopping back down on her bed, the springs creaking from the weight, Hazel opened the sketchbook.

She had always considered there to be two types of art. That which you made for others, and that which you made for yourself.

Lit by nothing but the watery light of early dawn, Hazel pressed charcoal against paper and drew for herself.

And although the lines that formed at her fingertips were for her own enjoyment, the visage they created was of someone very different from herself.

Hazel fell asleep as the sun rose higher in the sky, the thoughts that had been plaguing her subdued by the translation from mind to paper.

At least for now.

 

* * *

 

 

Considering the nature of Piper’s profession, Hazel probably shouldn’t have been surprised that she lived in a glorified whorehouse. The bordello was nice enough, she supposed, for its purpose.

From outside, the building appeared to be made primarily out of painted white wood, with a marble cornice along the top. It was two stories, as evidenced by the large, baby blue windows on both the top and bottom of the bordello. Connecting to the upstairs windows were small balconettes, with spiraling designs that had become popular in the larger cities.

Hazel glanced at the slip of paper in her hand, then back at the number hanging on the front of the bordello. Adjusting the heavy bag on her shoulder, she knocked on the door. She really hoped nobody important saw her on the porch of a prostitute home in broad daylight and got the wrong idea.

The door opened to reveal one of the most terrifying women Hazel had ever seen.

It wasn’t that she was ugly or old or resembled anything typically thought of when Hazel heard the words "terrifying woman," but something about her presence made Hazel feel nervous and tense. The woman towered over Hazel, at least six feet tall, with onyx hair falling down to her elbows in dark ringlets. She had high cheekbones, and her face was sharp and angular.

Hazel shrunk into herself, taking a small step back from the imposing woman. The courtesan crossed her arms, glaring down at Hazel with a disapproving frown, like the way a grandmother might look at an infant who had gotten into her sewing supplies.

In an annoyed voice, the woman said, “None of my girls have appointments until later today.”

“Oh! No I’m not here for a- I mean I’m just…” Hazel felt her face grow warm, and tucked a piece of curly hair behind her ear. “I’m actually here for a… business matter.” She unstrapped the bag around her shoulders and pulled out the wrapped canvas within, lifting the packaged painting so that the woman could see it.

Begrudgingly, the woman who Hazel was fairly sure was the bordello owner stepped back into the building, leaving a small space for Hazel to awkwardly shuffle through.

She heard the door close behind her, and the beautiful bordello woman strode over to a desk near the entrance, sitting down in a chair behind it. Still seemingly annoyed, the owner looked up at Hazel. “Well, who is it you have business with, mademoiselle?”

“Uh…” For whatever reason, looking into those sharp eyes, Hazel completely blanked on all names and faces she had ever known, feeling a terror course through her. She didn’t know why this woman scared her so much, only that she wouldn’t be able to describe even her own mother in this state, let alone a courtesan she had met once at a party.

“Well? Out with it!” the bordello owner snapped.

Hazel stood there like a broken machine for another second before she heard familiar voice from the other side of the room.

“Hazel? Is that you?” She spun around, and there stood Piper McLean, her savior from this wretched woman.

From behind her Hazel heard the older woman say, “Is this who you planned to speak to?”

She looked over her shoulder and nodded, then rushed forward and grabbed Piper by the arm, leading her up the stairwell and away from the bordello owner. Piper let out a little yelp when Hazel grabbed her, but went along with it until they were upstairs and she was let go.

“What was that all about?” Piper asked, rubbing where Hazel had grabbed her arm.

Hazel immediately felt guilty for being so rough with her, as if Piper didn’t get hassled enough by her customers on a daily basis. “I’m so sorry! I came here to give you your portrait, and that woman was there and she- she just- oh gods it was awful!”

Piper’s mouth made a little “o” as she nodded slowly, like she had realized something. “Yeah… That’s not too surprising. Circe is an Emotional Manipulator, so she was probably trying to scare you off and make you leave her alone.”

Hazel furrowed her brow, trying to remember if her mother had ever given her lessons on or mentioned Emotional Manipulators. “Wait… what did she do to me?”

Looking around to see if anyone was nearby, Piper bit her lip. “Here, come with me, I’ll explain it in a little bit.” She began walking towards the end of the second-floor hallway, until she reached the very last few rooms. Turning left, Piper quietly eased open a door and slipped through, Hazel following close behind.

Piper’s room was small, a queen-sized bed with plush blankets and feather pillows being the only piece of furniture besides a vanity dresser, which was draped in an assortment of cheap beads and flower necklaces like the kind children would sell on the street.

A painting of Tith hung on the wall, the god portrayed as he usually was with piles of jewels and coins around him. It was said to bring fortune and prosperity to have a painting of the god watch over you, but the piece was so old and covered in dust that Hazel had the feeling Piper didn’t care much about being in favor with the gods.

The painting did remind Hazel why she had come to visit this place to begin with. “Here,” she said, pulling the cloth-wrapped painting out of her bag, “I hope you can keep it this time.”

Piper smiled as Hazel unwrapped the canvas, revealing the portrait beneath. Taking the painting from her, Piper’s eyes seemed to drink in the oils like a cat with a bowl of fresh cream. “It’s as beautiful as the day I first saw it,” she said as she looked back up at Hazel.

Hazel blushed, staring down at the old wooden floorboards. She saw Piper shuffle toward her vanity, and heard the sound of the painting being put down. Then Piper came back, and Hazel looked up and met her gaze.

“Really Hazel, I didn’t have the opportunity to properly thank you at the ball for your gift, but it does mean a lot. I’ll hang it on the wall as soon as I can.” Piper leaned down and lightly kissed Hazel’s cheek, which only make her face grow even hotter.

Hazel cleared her throat, looking around the room again instead of at Piper. “So… you were talking about Emotional Manipulators and how evil Venus is?”

“Right, of course.” Piper sat down on the edge of her bed, patting the spot next to her. As she spoke, Hazel moved to sit beside her. “So, how much do you know about the art of Manipulation?”

More than you would ever guess, Hazel thought. But out loud, she said, “I’m just a bit fuzzy on the Emotional branch.” Fuzzy was a bit of an understatement, until a couple minutes ago she had assumed all Manipulators were like her; her mother had never taught her anything contrary.

Piper crossed her legs, looking up in concentration, as if she was trying to recite a poem she had learned years prior. “Well, all the usual rules of Manipulation apply—no looking away from your target; the more likely to happen in reality, the more effective; so on and so forth.

“The only key difference is while Cognitive Manipulators can alter the messages nerve fibers connected to the eyes send to the brain, Emotional Manipulators can adjust hormone levels in the brain to create different emotional responses from the target.”

Hazel blinked, trying to comprehend Piper’s explanation as well as wondering where a courtesan could have received such extensive academic instruction. Piper seemed to pick up on Hazel’s confusion, so she clarified, “That’s all the very scientific part though, and as far as I know it’s not knowledge needed to actually Manipulate. It really just means that Manipulators can either make someone see illusions or tamper with someone’s emotions. Strangely, never both.”

“So… Circe _made_ me scared of her.”

Piper cracked a smile, meeting Hazel’s eyes. “Well, she’s an intimidating woman, she probably just raised your already spiked adrenaline levels. I wouldn’t be too worried though, she’d never do anything so drastic that she’d give herself away as a Manipulator.”

Hazel grimaced, thinking about her own abilities and the dangers they presented. Manipulators were rarely executed; their abilities were too useful to go to waste. But if someone was discovered as a Manipulator, there were plenty of illegal slavers ready to capture and sell them to the highest bidder. Most nobles had at least one Manipulator in their personal guard, but rarely was that Manipulator’s “indenture” bought and sold legally.

She shook her head, pulling herself out of her thoughts and into the room where she sat. Returning Piper’s smile she asked, “How do you know so much, anyway?” Hazel nudged Piper’s arm with her own. “Are you some sort of runaway princess pretending to be a professional courtesan? Should I be addressing you as ‘ _Your Majesty_?’’

Piper laughed, and Hazel felt her chest swell at the sound, like she was taking a breath of fresh air after being cooped up in this dirty city for too long.

“I’m sorry to say that the reality isn’t quite so glamorous,” Piper said, her laugh dying out and her smile faltering. “My mother died giving birth to me. I obviously survived, but her debt to the bordello carried onto me as her daughter. I was raised to be a courtesan.”

Hazel tentatively raised a hand to Piper’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know-”

“It’s fine.” Piper shrugged, “I wouldn’t recommend the experience, but there is an advantage or two to being brought up here. Mainly that, since noblemen often want an intellectual partner as well as a physical one when they pay for a courtesan, we receive an education on par with noblewomen. Although for the sake of mystery and intrigue, let’s go with your runaway princess theory.”

Looking at Piper sitting there, afternoon light filtering through the window and giving her dark brown hair a beautiful sheen, Hazel knew that she did not want this to be her last encounter with the runaway princess, the shimmering courtesan. Piper deserved someone to talk to who wasn’t required to live with her, who she wouldn’t have to worry would spill every secret to the bordello owner and would give her an excuse to leave this godsforsaken place.

Hazel glanced at the oil painting on the vanity, and thought of the sketches of Piper covering her floor. With a shove, she pushed herself off of the bed and onto the wood-paneled floor. Then she turned toward Piper and gave a deep curtsy, feeling the rough cotton cloth of her skirt between her fingers.

“Miss McLean, would you do me the honor of being my most stunningly gorgeous and esteemed model for painting?” Hazel looked up from her curtsey to see Piper’s delighted face. “You see, business hasn’t been going so well for me, and I think royalty would be just the draw I need for new customers.”

Piper then hopped up from the bed and gave her own curtsey in response, admittedly much more graceful and elegant than Hazel’s. “Why, Miss Levesque, I would be honored.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for continuing to read, and I hope old fans of my work are impressed I've actually stuck to my schedule. Comments & Kudos mean the world!


	3. Charcoal Lines

Modeling was far more difficult than anticipated. Piper had to do her best to stay completely still for hours, her muscles aching and restless trapped in one position in the tiny, dusty room.

She couldn’t deny that it was fun watching Hazel work though, with her furrowed brow and habit of biting her lip whenever she concentrated really hard something. Piper could just barely see the room’s solitary window next to the bed from where she stood, and from the afternoon light shining out of it she knew she had been standing there for quite some time.

Unable to keep still any longer, she tilted her head towards Hazel and asked, “Are we almost done?”

Hazel’s head snapped up like she had been broken from some kind of spell. She glanced down at her painting then back up at Piper. “We can stop here for today, thank you for your patience.”

Piper let out a sigh of relief, stretching her arms as she walked over to Hazel. She tried to stretch her neck and see the progress on the painting, but Hazel quickly blocked her view.

“No peeking!” Hazel said as she moved the easel so that the canvas faced the wall. “The fun is in the surprise of the finished product.”

Letting out an annoyed puff, Piper sat down on Hazel bed, lounging across the lumpy mattress.

“So, you know plenty about me, but I still know very little about you, Mademoiselle Levesque.” Piper smiled, “Other than that you have amazing taste in friends.”

Hazel let out a little laugh, then sat down on the rug next to her bed, leaning back on the dresser behind her. “Well, what do you want to know?”

“Hmmm, how about how you got into art?”

Hazel shifted her position on the floor. “My mother was a fortune teller growing up; she made her money off telling people what they wanted to hear and selling cheap plastic charms under the guise of them being blessed with fortune by the gods.

“When I was young, I showed an interest and a bit of talent in drawing, and she saw an opportunity to… expand her clientele. She scrounged up what money she could to get me art lessons, and began having me counterfeit works of art.”

At this, Piper rolled on her side, propping her head on her hand and looking down at Hazel, a shocked expression on her face. “So your mother had you become a counterfeiter for her?”

Hazel nodded. “It took me awhile to get good, but it paid off in the end. Paintings by famous artists go for a pretty penny.”

“Your mother sounds like a handful.”

Hazel shrugged. “She could be a bit much to handle at times, but I loved her.”

Piper frowned a bit, thinking about her own mother, long dead. “Past tense?”

Brushing a strand of hair behind her ears, Hazel looked up at Piper, sadness in her eyes. “Turns out people aren’t too thrilled when they learn they were tricked into buying a replicated painting. A woman, Gaea, bought my fake reproduction of A Hundred Sorrows by Georges Moreau, and through some means found out it wasn’t the original. Then she tracked us down and attacked me in an act of crazed revenge.

“My mother was able to save me, but both her and Gaea died in the process.” A sharp pain shot through Piper’s chest as she saw a tear fall down Hazel’s face.

Piper quickly crawled out of the bed to sit next to Hazel. Wrapping her arm around Hazel in an embrace, Piper let out a quiet shushing sound. She felt Hazel’s head rest on her shoulder, and wondered if Hazel had ever opened up to anyone about her past.

They sat there for a while in silence, holding one another. Trying to think of a way to transition the topic, Piper asked, “How about your father?”

Hazel let out a bitter laugh, her voice raw. “Who knows? Apparently he’s some big criminal in the underworld.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t know who my dad is either.” Piper watched as Hazel’s eyes slid up to meet her own. She continued, “My mother gave me his last name, but gods know McLean is a common surname. When I was little, being raised in the bordello, I would dream about him coming to rescue me and whisking me off to a life of luxury.

“Obviously, that isn't exactly how things played out.”

“Is there anyone who could know?”

“Other than the man himself? I'm honestly not sure. If Circe knows, she never said anything, and I’m not even sure if any of the bordello girls were around when my mother was at her prime.”

“There must be some sort of record, though! Some way to see who your mother’s clients were at what times.”

Piper smiled, and her eyes felt like they were looking past Hazel, to some dreamy fantasy beyond. “Well, and I can't know this for certain, of course, but… I think he may have not been a client.”

“What do you mean?”

“I _mean_ I think my mother had a secret affair!”

Cocking her head, Hazel shifted her chin on Piper’s shoulder, and Piper had to hold in giggles from the unintentional tickling.

“Why would it be secret? Wasn't having affairs your mother’s job?” Hazel asked.

“No! Well, yes, but courtesans aren’t supposed to have any romantic or sexual entanglements outside of clients; it's bad for business to give away goods, as Circe says. Any relationship that doesn't come with a payment is strictly forbidden.”

“So why do you think your mother had an illicit partner?”

“Well, Circe keeps her girls supplied with contraceptive tonic, and is always diligent in reminding the girls to take it. But the tonic is expensive, and if my mother had been seeing someone she wasn’t supposed to regularly…”

“Then Circe would've noticed the increased usage of the tonic!”

“Exactly! It's romantic, in a way.” Piper sighed, “If foolish.”

“I suppose.” Hazel’s breath was warm, and Piper was suddenly very self conscious of how close they were, all while she spoke of secret affairs and forbidden love. But something in her kept her from moving.

“You know,” Piper said, a bit softer than before, “I’m very sorry about getting you in trouble with monsieur Jaques.”

Hazel shrugged with the shoulder that wasn’t pressed against Piper’s own. “It’s alright; I'll get by.”

“I mean, if you'd like, I could introduce you to some other nobles. Convince one or two of my regular clients to invite a talented young artist to their parties.”

Hazel drew away from Piper, looking her in the eyes. “Would you really? Are you sure that isn't too much?”

“Of course it’s not,” Piper said, gently pulling Hazel back to her side. “It would be my pleasure for a friend.”

“Mm yes,” Hazel murmured, her eyes beginning to close as she leaned on Piper. “It's nice to have a friend.”

Piper smiled over at her, and almost made a joke about how she had signed up to be a model, not a pillow. But something about Hazel lying peacefully, her curly hair framing her face like a halo as her warmth seeped into Piper, stopped her.

There would be time for work later. For now, they could rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was a little bit shorter than the last two; it's just what felt right. Thank you so much to those who have read this story so far and left comments and kudos; you guys rock!


	4. Inking

Balls had become a dull commodity for Piper. Week after week, she’d have clients take her, hoping to show her off to all their rich and wealthy friends. Each time, she’d have to pretend to be dazzled by the crystalline chandeliers and bubbly champagne.

Tonight, she was on the arm of a Lord Henry Thomas  III , which had to be one of the dullest names she’d heard in awhile. Her one solace was that the man seemed too awkward to speak much to her, so they danced around the ballroom floor, Piper twirling and stepping in time with the music. 

After a particularly quick composition that left her feeling light-headed and suffocated by her corset, the pair walked to the edge of the dance floor.

While the country of Othus had always been renowned for its beautiful and unconventional architecture, the capital city of Tephia stood out particularly for its conglomerate of talented artists. Piper had always had the feeling that strange ballrooms were a personal favorite of the local architects.

In the one she was attending tonight, a system of levees and platforms manned by servants rose partygoers to different levels. The roof was domed, making the whole ballroom resemble a beehive out of a children’s book, with its oval shape and rings of platforms going up. To add to the effect, everything was colored a warm gold, from the walls to the liquor. 

The attendants were playing along with the ballroom’s theme as well, with everyone dressed in black and gold while enjoying honey-flavored treats. With the constant buzz of mindless chatter all around her, Piper could distinctly imagine what it must be like to be a bee. She felt sorry for the poor insects.

Her and Lord Henry stepped onto one of the platforms, and he flashed two fingers at the servant boy running the levee. A moment later they were lifted up, slowly rising to the second floor. 

When the levee had stopped, Henry hopped off, and extended a hand to Piper, who took it and carefully stepped onto the platform. The two strolled along with no words exchanged between them other than Piper’s occasional, “How are you my Lord?” “Are you enjoying the festivities my Lord?” and “You look dashing tonight my Lord.”

Eventually they reached a gaggle of nobles who must have been Henry’s friends, because they immediately greeted him with loud shouts and heckling, the alcohol on their breaths detectable even a dozen feet away. Henry smiled and approached them, pulling his arm away from Piper.

“Good evening everyone,” he said, Piper trailing behind him. “It’s wonderful to see you all in such good spirits.” 

“Who’s that pretty lady on your arm tonight?” a woman called from the group, resulting in knowing chuckles from members of the party.

“Why this young woman would be the stunning Piper McLean.” Henry motioned to Piper, any sign of previous awkwardness gone as he was surrounded by his clique. 

“Where’d you buy her?” The same woman as before asked, a grin plastered across her face. 

A roar of laughter erupted from the group, and she saw the tips of Henry’s ears go pink. “Now now, let’s keep it civil everyone,” he said, turning away from her completely and stepping into the gathering of friends.

She looked on as the group had a merry time, having been presented and discarded like an object. She was nothing more than a new pocket watch or piece of jewelry to these people; her entire purpose was to be shown off and cooed over for a moment, then tucked away while they had fun. It was disgusting, and she felt a bubble of rage rise in her chest. She thought about how easy it would be to turn all of these people against one another. A few well placed comments and they’d be stabbing each other with their dinner utensils. 

Piper forced herself to look away, to search the room for… there! On the opposite side of the room was Hazel, standing out from all the partygoers in the same blue blouse and white skirt she had worn when Piper first met her. 

She tried to nonchalantly get Hazel’s attention, but after a few shoulder wiggles and head jerks, she realized her attempts were futile. Piper looked around, trying to find the perfect candidate for a messenger, until a blonde courtier walked up to her, the dark trail of her gown following suit. 

The woman curtsied, lowering her head just so. “Greetings Mademoiselle, I’m Lady Chase. Would you happen to know where the host of tonight’s festivities is? I’m afraid I can’t pinpoint the architect of this ballroom, and it’s driving me mad. Beauchene and Daviau are my top guesses, personally.” 

Piper smiled, returning the curtsy. “I do not, however could you deliver a message to that artist across the room?”

Lady Chase turned, peering at the artisan section. Piper pointed at Hazel, who was still absorbed in her work. “See? That one right there.”

“I… I suppose I could do that, yes. What do you want me to tell her?”

“I need you to tell her this,” Piper said, but this time when she spoke, there was an underlying cadence in her voice that seemed disconnected with her words, as if there were two of her speaking at once. Lady Chase didn’t appear to notice. “Tell her to look over at where I’m standing, and follow me.”

Her eyes glazed, Lady Chase nodded, and began to walk in Hazel’s direction. Piper caught her wrist before she could get too far, and leaned in. “And please do continue your search for the architect after you’ve told her.”

She let go of the Lady, and watched carefully as she rounded the ballroom, occasionally crossing platforms or casually nodding in response to greetings. Lady Chase reached the artisan section, and walked over to Hazel. 

Moments later she saw Hazel look up and search the room until she met Piper’s eyes. Piper turned away from her, and began to stride towards the lady’s toilette. She didn’t look back at 

Hazel, but hoped that she understood what Piper was doing. 

A narrow hallway separated the door to the toilette and the rest of the party, and as Piper walked down it, away from the bustle and chatter of the ball for the first time all night, she was finally able to relax. She opened the door, and stepped inside, her heels making a faint clicking noise against the marble floor. 

There, she waited. One breath. Five breaths. Fifteen breaths. A knock. 

She spun around, opening the door just enough to peer at the person through the crack. Smiling, she pulled Hazel in, shutting and locking the door behind her. 

While a good deal of the light in the ballroom was most likely created by hidden Cognitive Manipulators under the servantry of the party’s host, in here, where it would be impossible for any Manipulator to see, the only light was provided by two candles perched on a marble hand basin. 

“I don’t have long,” Hazel whispered, candlelight casting shadows across her features. “I’m only allowed one break, and if I’m away too long, it’ll look like I’m slacking off.”

“It’s alright; I just needed to get away from the madness for a minute and speak with someone rational.” Piper took Hazel’s hand. “Nice to see you, by the way.”

Hazel grinned. “It’s always a pleasure. Though I’m surprised you don’t like balls; they seem like fun, when you get participate in them.”

Making a face, Piper said, “If you like being objectified or ignored all night, I’m sure they are.”

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to offend…”

“No! It’s completely fine. It was rude of me to complain in the first place. At least I get to move around and eat.”

Hazel shrugged. “Business is business.”

Sighing, Piper glanced at the door, where behind lie an entire night with Lord Henry. “Business is business.” Shaking her head, she focused back on Hazel. “I wonder if I could hide a mini tart in my corset for you later.”

Hazel threw her head back and laughed with her whole body, shoulders shaking. “That could go wrong very easily.” 

“I need  _ something  _ interesting to do tonight.”

“If you’re going to do it, sneak it to me around 10; that’s when I start to get especially peckish.” 

Piper chuckled, but she could feel the time slipping between their grasped hands. “You need to get back soon, though, and the longer we stay in here the longer we have a chance of getting caught.”

It sent a pang of hurt through Piper’s chest to watch Hazel’s smile droop, but she let go of her hand. “I’ll go first, then in a minute or two, you leave.”

Lifting two fingers in farewell, Hazel said, “Thank you for the adventure, as short as it may have been.” 

“I long for our next already.” Piper turned, opening the door, and walked down the dimly lit hallway. 

 

* * *

  
  


Spin. Step. Step. Turn. Over and over again, a methodical series of movement, of lifeless actions conducted with a smile plastered over her face. 

“Would you like to take a break?” Lord Henry asked quietly into her ear. Piper nodded, ever tired, ever smiling. 

He led her off the dance floor, and Piper couldn't help but glance up at the artists on the second level. 

“Did you find an artist who you were fond of?” 

Piper experienced a moment of panic—a horrible, floating feeling in her chest. “Excuse me?” 

“I could buy you something, if you’d like.” 

Oh. He was asking if she was fond of an artist’s work. Of course. She was about to reject his offer, when an idea came to her. “Actually, there  _ was  _ a piece that caught my eye.” 

 

* * *

 

“That one,” Piper said, pointing to the largest painting on display. “It would be so kind of you to buy it for me; I rarely receive such generosity.” Her words were coated with sugar and dripping honey, and she could sense that underlying cadence in her voice for the second time that night. 

But still she could see the nervousness in Lord Henry’s eyes as he looked at the price of the painting. It would barely dent his coffers, but it was still a mighty sum for a prostitute’s gift. 

Whether through Piper’s words or his pride, though, Henry still turned to Hazel and said, “You heard the mademoiselle; I’ll take your painting of the King’s palace.” 

“You’re too kind, my Lord,” Piper said with as much gratitude as she could muster. 

Hazel looked shocked, and thankfulness was in her eyes when she glanced over at Piper. She carefully took the large painting off the wall and began wrapping it in cloth. “Would you like to take the piece with you now, or come by to pick it up before you leave? I can also deliver it to your home at a later date, though you’ll need to make sure someone will be there to take it from me.” 

“You can have it delivered to Mademoiselle McLean’s residence; I'm sure she can provide you with the details,” Lord Henry said. Hazel nodded, but sent a knowing smile in Piper’s direction. 

“Actually, Mademoiselle Leqvesque has done a piece for me before, so she knows where to bring the painting.” 

Lord Henry clapped his hands together. “Wonderful; that makes things easier for everyone.” He took Piper’s hand, and she had to numb herself to the wave of revulsion that passed over her. “Are you ready to leave, my dear?” 

Piper saw Hazel make a sour face behind Henry, and she couldn't help but wish she was free to make that expression as well. “I’m ready to leave whenever you are, my Lord.”

As Henry’s smile grew, as did Piper’s dread. “We’ll make our departure at once, then.”

 

* * *

 

The only good thing about Henry kissing her neck was that it meant Piper could look as bored and disgusted as she felt, and she wouldn’t lose any money for it. She stood in his chambers, the lights off, a lifeless shell. 

Henry said something that she couldn’t make out, or maybe just didn’t want to. Then he turned her around and began unbuttoning her dress, until her back was completely exposed. 

Letting out a silent deep breath —the closest to a sigh she could risk—Piper pulled her arms out of her sleeves and dropped her dress to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is about as NSFW as this fic will get, so don't worry if that's something you're concerned about. Also, I'm so sorry for posting like a month late! School has been kicking my ass, so I'm probably going to change my update schedule to every other tuesday, which will hopefully be more manageable. But as always, thank you so much for reading, and all feedback means the world! The beautiful kitshunette on tumblr drew art for the fic, so please go check that out here: https://goo.gl/v5afuX


	5. Mixing Paints

Hazel was varnishing her portrait of Piper when there was a knock at the door. She looked up, wondering if it was just someone visiting the neighboring apartment. Another knock sounded, unmistakably coming from her front door.

Slowly, she put down her brush and creeped toward the door. She pulled it open, revealing a short man with a scruffy beard and a thick pair of glasses.

“Um, hello. How may I help you?” Hazel asked, surprised.

“Is this the studio of artist Hazel Levesque?”

“Well, that’s me, so I suppose it is.”

The man nodded his head, adjusting his tweed jacket. He continued to stand, twiddling his thumbs and rocking back and forth on his heels. He coughed.

“Oh! Excuse me; would you like to come in?” Hazel moved out of the door frame, and the man scuttered inside so fast she could’ve sworn he teleported. “Are you here to… buy a painting?”

“Hm? Oh yes, yes I am.”

Hazel shut the door, and tentatively moved towards him. “Are you looking for a pre-existing piece or did you wish to commission something?” The question came easy; she had prattled it off a hundred times before, and its familiarity helped ground her in this foreign situation.

He was standing at her canvas now, staring at the painting that lay on it. “Who’s that?” He pointed. “The woman in the painting.”

“That’s just a uh, new model who agreed to pose for me.”

“She’s lovely.”

Shifting, Hazel looked at anything other than the man or the canvas, resisting the urge to cover up the painting so he couldn’t look at it. “Yes, she is. Unfortunately, that painting is not up for sale at the moment.”

“Ah yes, of course.” He turned away from the canvas to look back at her. “Wait, what was that question you asked earlier?”

“I asked if you were planning on buying anything.” Hazel could feel her patience waning, and in the back of her mind she heard her mother chiding her about how being a good saleswoman is more important than being a talented artist.

“Yes indeed! My apologies for barging in here like a madman. I was hoping to commission a painting of a street in Tephia.”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to be a bit more specific; this is a large city.”

“Ah, well, I can’t quite remember the name of this street. It’s small, usually very crowded. Lots of shops.”

Hazel gave him a blank stare. “With all do respect Monsieur, you just described every street in the city.”

“Oh yes, haha, those descriptors weren’t very helpful were they? Let’s see… um…. It’s the one with the quaint little patisserie! Right across from the Théâtre Urbain!”

Hazel nodded her head. “Okay, I believe I know where you’re talking about now. Do you want it to be at a certain time or of a particular part of the street?”

“Oh yes! That patisserie I mentioned a little while ago at dawn would be stunning.”

“Is there a specific size or type of frame or-”

He waved his hand. “Just choose the nicest and biggest of everything; cost is not an issue.”

She blinked. “Understood. That should be everything I need to know, then. I can have it finished for you in a fortnight. I recommend stopping by in a week to check in on my progress, tell me any changes you wish to make, discuss final payment, etcetera.”

“I will see you then my dear!” He gave her a grin and began to walk towards the door.

“Wait!” She called. “I never asked your name.”

The man lifted a hand. “Monsieur Mannit Lacers, pleased to make your acquaintance.”

* * *

 

“So do you have any guesses as to who this man is?” Hazel asked, sitting against her bed.

“Hmm… I might have an idea,” Piper said next to her. “I think I’ve heard of him in passing before. He’s a recluse, but one that was born into wealth. Supposedly he rarely attends parties or even leaves his house in fear that someone will identify him and attempt to rob or hurt him.”

“He didn’t have an issue with telling me his name, though.”

Piper shrugged. “He probably didn’t see you as much of a threat.”

“Excuse you! I can be threatening.”

“Oh really?” Piper raised an eyebrow.

Hazel bared her teeth and let out her best hiss, waving her arms wildly around for emphasis, but Piper just laughed and gave her an unimpressed look.

“Wow, you were right. Consider me threatened.”

Hazel shoved her, unable to keep a smile off her face. “You’re so rude.”

“Truly malicious, I am. The nastiest. In fact, I’m such a horrible person that I brought you a gift.”

Gasping, Hazel sat up straight. “Really? You shouldn’t have; you’re already doing so much for me, what with modeling and getting me into parties to sell my art.”

Piper waved her hand. “It was nothing, and those are things I enjoy. An excuse to get away from the bordello and a friendly face at balls? It feels more like you’re doing favors for me. But let me get your present; I think you’re going to love it.” She twisted, grabbing her bag off of Hazel’s bed, and began rummaging through it. Piper looked up. “Go sit in front of your mirror; I’ll come in a moment.”

Hazel cocked her head, but obliged, standing up and walking towards the stool in front of her mirror. She sat there for a moment, and the scene outside her window caught her eye. The sun had begun to set, and the whole sky was turning orange, like someone had painted the world in fire.

“Here,” came Piper’s voice behind her. A cold weight settled around Hazel’s neck, and in the mirror she could see a necklace with an elaborate gold pendant mimicking a rose. Piper’s fingers brushed her neck, and Hazel felt a shiver go down her spine.

Something had shifted in the room. The air was heavier, and the silence was like that of a breath taken before a gunshot.

Swallowing, Hazel lifted a hand to the necklace, touching Piper’s lingering fingers. “It’s lovely.”

She hadn’t meant to whisper, but the noise that should’ve broken the silence only made it thicker. Piper reached up to brush a strand of hair out of her face, leaving the spot where her fingers laid on Hazel’s collarbone moments ago feeling empty and lacking.

Tilting her head up to look at Piper, Hazel opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. It was like she had been trapped in another reality that she could not escape and was not sure she _wanted_ to escape.

Slowly, Piper got closer. Hazel blinked and their noses were touching, and she could swear they were breathing in perfect synchronization—two beings completely in tune to the other’s presence. Closing her eyes, she leaned into the the small gap between their lips, until her entire world was soft skin and fading light behind her eyelids.

They parted for a brief moment, locking eyes, a current of energy running between them. Then Hazel pulled Piper down into another kiss, tangling her fingers in Piper’s long, dark hair.

Piper moved to the front of Hazel, continuing to kiss and kiss and kiss. She sat down on Hazel’s lap, the stool beneath them rocking a bit with their combined weight, but neither heeded it as Piper stroked a hand down Hazel’s neck, shaking her to her core.

They continued, Hazel leaving kisses along the outline of Piper’s face, until a great weight was lifted off of her and she was being pulled off of the stool and towards her bed.

Piper dragged Hazel down to sit on the bed, smiling. Then she cupped her face, leaning in until her nose grazed Hazel’s ear. A moment later she whispered into it, “Now isn’t this much comfier?”

Hazel responded with a kiss.

* * *

A couple hours later, Hazel laid nuzzled in Piper’s arms, the two lying in bed. Nothing in the world could break the spell, the euphoria settled deep within Hazel. Until she remembered something.

“Didn’t you say at one point that courtesans aren’t allowed to partake in relationships with people outside of their clientele?”

Piper’s arms tightened around her. “I am… afraid that is the bordello’s policy, yes.”

“So can this not happen again?” Hazel looked up at Piper, who shifted her eyes away.

“I- I’m not sure. For both of our safeties and futures, it would… probably be best. I mean, I would be stripped of everything and thrown out onto the streets, and you would never get hired again if word got out you were in an illicit relationship with a courtesan.”

Hazel grunted. “I wish I had enough money to pay off all your debts and free you, even if it meant renting an even worse apartment or living off the streets.”

“Well that wouldn’t solve much,” Piper smiled, “then we’d both just be on the streets.”

“With my art and your beauty, we wouldn’t be for long. You could advertise me and bring in customers, and I’d do lovely oil paintings and make millions. Then we could buy the largest chateau in Tephia.”

“Ooh, or even move out to the country. I’ve never left the city before.”

“A beautiful country home for us and our piles of riches.”

Piper laughed. “That would be nice.”

They laid in silence.

Piper was the first to break it. “You know, we could always, I mean. I could lie.”

Hazel went still. “What?”

“We could keep our relationship a secret. No one would suspect anything. We would just have to be careful.”

“No! That’s too dangerous, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Do you want this to end?”

Hazel shut her eyes tight. “Of course not; you’re wonderful and I care deeply for you but…”

“But?”

She opened them. “Do you actually think it would work?”

“I think it’s worth an attempt.”

Hazel reached her hand out and traced the outline of Piper’s lips. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Not if I can help it,” Piper said, and bridged the gap between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh I know this is very late and is also a short chapter and I have... no excuses, I'm sorry. I think I put this chapter off for a while because scenes of passion are not exactly my expertise. I hope you enjoyed it regardless, though! Comments and Kudos mean the world
> 
> **(edit 12/18/17) I looked over this chapter with fresh eyes before writing number six, and realized I made quite a few errors. Hopefully all have been fixed, and this chapter is at the level of quality I strive for in my writing. Chapter six is coming soon, I promise!


	6. Underpainting

Hazel was elated. For once in her life, the future was looking better than the past. Thanks to Piper’s goading of clients to buy her pieces and her large commission for Mannit Lacers, she would not have to stress about paying her rent and affording food for a while. The best part, though, was Piper herself. 

They had begun seeing each other even more often than before, with meetings whenever they could fit it into their schedules. In public they spoke, laughed, and relished in each other’s presence. In private they indulged each other in kisses with soft eyes and touches. 

Today was one of the rare occasions in which Hazel visited Piper in the bordello. They usually avoided it both to prevent Circe’s suspicion of Hazel and because it reminded them of the reality of both Piper’s profession and what their relationship could never be. 

They were perched on the edge of Piper’s bed, Hazel tracing a star into her palm over and over again with her finger. Piper was talking about a new bistro that had opened up; how she loved the warm atmosphere and kind staff, but Hazel was having difficulty focusing. She was trying her best to listen intently, she really was, but it was near impossible to not bask in the way this moment fit. The feeling that the two of them, together, was how things should always have been was so overwhelming in all of the best ways that Hazel would zone in and out of Piper’s words, fixating instead on the sound of her voice or the movement of her lips. 

“And- Hazel, are you even listening to me?” Piper said, frowning, but with a playful spark in her eyes. 

“Mostly,” Hazel admitted, sheepishly. “I care about what you’re saying I’m just… I’m just so happy!” She leaned into Piper as she said this, pulling her hand away but snuggling up. 

“Oh no you don’t,” Piper said. “You’re not getting out of this one just by being sweet.” 

“Hmm, are you sure?” Hazel took a piece of Piper’s long, dark hair and wrapped it around her index finger before kissing it and letting the piece fall back down to frame Piper’s face. 

“Well, maybe I could be convinced,” Piper said, reaching up and brushing the tips of her fingers along Hazel’s jaw. 

Hazel leaned into the touch until her face was cupped by Piper’s hand. Then she tilted her face up and kissed Piper, savoring it and the warmth of touch. They parted slightly, and Piper gave her a peck on the nose, sending them both into giggles. 

Piper wrapped her free arm around Hazel’s waist and pulled her into another kiss. This one was deeper than the last, and for a moment Hazel completely lost sense of who and where she was. 

There was the sound of a door opening and a feminine voice stopping mid sentence. 

The pair jolted apart, Hazel disoriented from the kiss and sudden movement. When her vision cleared, she saw a pretty girl in the doorway, with long dark hair and green eyes. 

Eyes that were open wide in shock at the two of them. 

Piper stood up and grabbed the girl’s wrist, looking up at her with desperation. “Silena, please, it’s not what you think. You can’t tell Circe. She’ll throw me out, make sure I’m never able to work again. Please.” 

Silena looked between the two, biting her lip. She looked down at the silver cross hanging from a chain around her neck and shook her head. “Piper… I’m- I’m sorry, but you know what she’ll do to me if she learns I knew something and didn’t tell her.”

“She would never find out if you didn’t.” 

“No, you’re wrong. She would, she always does, Piper. If you didn’t break the rules, then I wouldn’t have to tell her.” 

Hazel felt her heart racing, sweat slicking her palms. This wasn’t supposed to happen, it wasn’t supposed to go like this. She saw Piper let go of Silena’s hand, but as she did, something in Piper’s demeanor hardened. 

“Silena, we’re like sisters. You’d never want to hurt me.” As Piper spoke, something strange happened. Her voice was hers, but there were layers, some sort of underlying cadence, that warped it into something almost unworldly. Silena’s eyes went glossy. “There’s also no reason to tell her anything, since this is a new client of mine. She is paying, and it was approved by Circe. She’s not in a good mood, so you shouldn’t bring it up. You’re tired. Go take a nap.” 

Nodding drowsily, Silena turned around and left the room. But even as she closed the door behind her, Piper was still tense. 

“What did you just do?” Hazel asked, fighting to not sound distressed. 

Piper hesitated for a moment then turned to Hazel, guilt plain on her face. “I have not been completely honest with you, and I’m so sorry, but you must understand, it was to protect myself. 

“I’m an Emotional Manipulator. Well, the magical kind, that is. Though I admit to being the manipulative type on occasion with clients, but never you.” 

Shaking her head, Hazel held up her hands. She needed to process what she’d just been told, and Piper was rambling. After a pause, she said, “To clarify, you’re a magical Manipulator?”

“Yes. I can alter hormone levels in others’ brains.” 

“So, that’s what just happened with Silena? You… did something, and brainwashed her?”

“Well, not quite. I lowered her adrenaline and cortisol while raising her oxytocin and serotonin, so she calmed down and became more inclined to trust and care about me. Believe me, it’s not something I enjoy doing to hurt people.” 

It was scary, Hazel couldn’t deny this. The idea that Piper could change Hazel's emotions to love or hate something she hadn’t before was terrifying, but she also knew what it was like to have that sort of power. To be shunned and hurt because of it.

“I understand. Maybe better than you’d think,” Hazel said. 

Piper seemed relieved, releasing a breath. “Thank you. I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.” 

“If I’m honest, I haven’t told you something important about me either.”

Piper tilted her head in question, and Hazel raised her hands. She felt the currents of magic in the air, the energy that composed the fabric of the universe, and Manipulated it. In her palm, a glass rose appeared. She held it out to Piper, who looked delighted at first, and then confused. The rose flickered in and out of reality as Piper likely realized that it couldn’t possibly exist, then disappeared altogether. 

“You… you too?” Piper asked, looking at her with wonder. 

“Me too. I can’t make people feel things though, just see them.” 

Piper hummed in agreement, like she had already figured that out. “I must admit, this isn’t how I imagined this afternoon transpiring. Significantly more magic and less kissing than planned.” 

Hazel’s face grew warm and she looked down at the wooden floor. “Well, I mean, there’s still time.”

“I think the grand revelation of secrets killed the mood a bit, but I promise the lost potential kisses will be collected eventually.” Piper’s smile fell. “You should also be going, and in the future, avoid the bordello and Silena as much as you can. Risking the jog to her memory and potential suspicion is not a good idea.”

“Ah, and it was almost beginning to feel like home.”

Snorting, Piper picked up Hazel’s wrap from the dresser and draped it around her shoulders, giving her one last peck on the cheek before pulling away. “I’ll come see you soon.” 

“I long for it already,” Hazel said, quoting Piper’s parting words to her in the bathroom of the beehive ball that felt like eons ago, though only months had passed.

Piper lit up, beaming as she held open the door for Hazel and softly waved her goodbye.

As she walked, Hazel thought about how much had changed in such a short amount of time. Her general routine hadn’t changed significantly outside of visits to and from Piper, but those moments were treasured and stayed with her, reflected through the more dreamlike quality her art had taken on. 

She wasn’t just living for herself and her ambitions anymore. For the first time since her mother died, Hazel had someone else who cared about her growth, and in exchange her own thoughts were occupied with Piper’s wellbeing. 

Piper. An emotional Manipulator. 

Doubt crept in, growing along the edges of her thoughts like persistent weeds. True, Piper was unable to constantly control someone’s emotions, but had there been any moments where her feelings hadn’t been hers? Their first meeting, their first kiss—had she ever felt some unnatural pull?

Was she feeling one now?

With that thought, she felt her anxieties lessen. She looked up from the steps of the staircase and saw Circe sitting behind her desk, glaring at Hazel.

She had been being Manipulated, but not by Piper. The idea of Circe reaching into her brain, meddling with her composition, sent a wave of revulsion through her. 

Averting her gaze, Hazel scuttled down the rest of the stairs, heading towards the door. Halfway there, Circe’s dangerously smooth voice pierced through the quiet.

“I don’t like my girls making friends outside of the bordello, as I’m sure you can understand. They need to stay focused on their work.” 

Taking a breath of courage, Hazel turned, facing Circe. “Then you’ll be glad to hear I won’t be returning.” 

Circe made a face of mock sympathy. “It’s for the best, dear. Really.”

Feeling her stomach turn, Hazel headed back towards and through the large double doors. 

She could only think of Circe invading her, literally playing with her emotions. What must it be like to work under her? Horrible images and ideas filled her mind, and she suddenly felt immense sympathy for Silena, Piper, and the other courtesans, joined by overwhelming nausea. 

Hazel rushed to the nearest alley, unoccupied besides a few stray cats, and retched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one has been a long time coming, sorry for that. We're officially past both the halfway and 10k word marks, which are big personal accomplishments. The dialogue is still a little clunky as I try to find the balance between au setting and canon personalities, but I hope you enjoyed it regardless. Kudos and comments are always appreciated!


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